Hunter: The Vigil

[Doc Gnosis]

First week on the Homicide desk, and already Violette was beginning to feel sick inside. The navy suit did little to warm her from the chills of the scene; so sickening and... wrong. Her stomach pushed at her while her lungs felt closed to prevent any more of the noxious odor from entering.

The coroner was still trying to determine cause of death and other things, and frankly she was not in any shape to find anything. Maybe there was some clue to where the perp came in, or what happened, but she'd get back to the upstairs in five minutes.

"-Let go of me, bitchtit, Veronica is in there!"

Her head snapped up at that and turned her gaze to the window and saw what seemed to be a disturbance outside. Exiting through the door she could see the source: A cop holding back a rather vocal individual. 'This I can handle.'

"What's this guy doing here?" She asked.

"Guy shoved past a few people trying to get into the house. Said something about a sister." replied one of the cops

Then we need to speak to him. "Let him go, I have some questions for him."

"Got it, ma'am." On that word, he let the individual go and back to the police line.

"Detective Caron of SPD. I have some questions for you."

 

[Texas Joker 52]

Asimov shoved away from the cop the moment he was let go, only to glare up at another that said that she was a detective, and had questions for him. In the back of his mind, he knew he ought to cooperate and calm down. But at the forefront was his sister, and her potential safety.

"Right now, I don't give a shit. I heard that my baby sister was in there. Veronica Micheals. I'm her brother, Asimov. She called me about an hour, hour and a half ago. Is she in there? Is she ok?", he asked, his voice harsh as his hands shook out of anger, frustration and most of all, worry.

One of his hands reached up and ran over his messy mohawk, while the other fidgeted at his side. "I'll answer any question you have once mine are answered, Detective. Now, where is Veronica? Where the fuck is my baby sister?!", he growled, his voice threatening to break again due to the sheer terror that something had happened to her.

 

[Doc Gnosis]

Something in her heart sank at Asimov's words. Her eyes closed for a second to get her words right, before returning her focus to him.

"I'm sorry Asimov, but your sister is gone." Violette finally said, the words coming out slowly and with a hint of sympathy. "We found her in her room... burned. But if you could answer my questions, we may be able to find her killer."

Along her left hip, she felt her cell phone vibrate. Sorry hon but you gotta wait.

*.*.*

Hi~, you've reached Violette. I'm not-

With the push of a button, Artemis turned off his phone and pocketed it in a huff. With news of the Fairmount Butcher coming out, he felt nervous; didn't know whether or not the police called her there, but the phantom chill remained. For him, there was one thing to do:

The small sketchbook had arcane images with scraps of Seattle's cityscape woven in, and in fifteen minutes there was going to be some more.

 

[CJ1145]

A new figure approached the police line, hands buried deep in his pockets and head down to hide himself from the cold. As he approached the barrier, an officer stepped in front of him.

"Sir, this area is off-limits to civilians, I'm afraid you're gonna have to back--"

The man in the coat grunted, reaching out with a grubby hand to grab hold of the officer's collar, drawing him in close.

"Can it, Jenkins, you fucking yes-man." growled Kerry Mac, eyeing his old co-worker with a rage in his eyes.

"K-K-Kerry?!" squealed the officer, a man easily a head shorter than the unsightly figure gripping his shirt. Tubbier, too. "What the hell are you doing here?!"

"The hell do you think?" grumbled the bigger man. "Butcher's been in here. Now lemme in, I want to check the corpse."

There was no exclamation in his speech, but the growling tones of Kerry Mac were by no means quiet, and were already booming down most of the police line.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

"Gone? What the fuck do you mean gone?! I want answers goddamnit, so give me some! What do you mean burned?", he asked, what the Detective said starting to get through his hangover and worry.

And then it all seemed to click together. His baby sister, Veronica, was dead. Burned alive. He had heard of the Fairmount Butcher, and he knew that was part of his sadistic signature. Asimovs eyes started to fill with tears even as his mouth formed a distraught snarl. "YOU MEAN MY SISTER IS DEAD?! DO YOU HAVE HIM?! WHERE IS THE BUTCHER?! I'LL KILL HIM FOR THIS!", he roared, grabbing onto the Detectives shirt front, just before slumping down to the ground and onto his knees.

The grief was overwhelming and all but smothered his earlier anger. It was still there, but it was more of an ember now than a raging blaze. The only person he had left in his family that he cared for was dead now. All he had left was his bastard of a father.

After letting himself weep for a few moments, he sniffed, then got to his feet. "I'll answer any questions you have. But... I'll want to see my sister. I need to see her for myself.", he murmured, tears still streaming down his face.

-- -- --

In the New Haven Bookshop a few miles away, Sophia also overheard the news report, thanks to the small radio that Anthony kept by the front counter. He didn't mind her listening at night, since it and the many books in the store were her only forms of entertainment, so long as she kept it quiet.

But, as she listened, she pulled out her notes and started to add to them. There was something off about this Fairmount Butcher. He was no normal serial killer. And due to the methods of killing, there was no consistency. Sure, there were recurrences of wooden stakes and cloves of garlic, which would make her think that maybe the Butcher thought he was killing vampires. It was far too close to the classic methods of vampire slaying. But the lack of consistency... It made her curious.

Then again, she thought with a small smile as she sipped her cup of coffee and started to go through her notes again, she was always curious, and she always wanted answers to her questions. She just needed to find out how to get those answers.

 

[Tortilla the Hun]

Detective Lawrence Daniels leant up against the doorjamb of the crime scene's room, taking in everything the lied before him. The scene was brutal, foul-smelling, and almost overwhelming in the horror that it held. Daniels massaged his temples, still recovering from a migraine from earlier that morning and wishing he was at home in his own bed. He supposed, given the current state of the woman on hers, he really couldn't complain. Honestly, the detective hadn't even known why he didn't call in or stayed at his desk to organize files and make calls like nearly every day before that. Seems as though these Fairmount Butcher killings were the only sort of field work he was interested in as of late. One thing he noticed after the first few investigations is that the killer, or killers, were clean. Not exactly with what what they left behind, but with what they didn't. No prints, no DNA, no witnesses to speak of - the guy may as well have been a ghost.

"Gotta hand it to 'im," Daniels muttered aloud to no one in particular. "This guy's is pretty damned efficient."

"Huh, can't say the same about your dad's condoms," said Officer Bryant, a slightly overweight beat cop Daniels used to work with. The guy had a knack for breaking the detective's balls every chance he got.

"That reminds me, your mother told me she had somethin' for ya," Daniels replied, slipping a hand inside his jacket and reaching for his pocket. What he withdrew was an empty hand with his middle finger raised at the cop. "She said 'fuck off', and quit usin' up all the tissues."

"Ah, blow it out your ass, Daniels," Officer Bryant said, walking away and shaking his head.

"Always a pleasure," the detective muttered before standing upright and walking into the room. He grimaced at the smell, something he hoped he'd never have to get used to, and looked around the room. It wouldn't come as a surprise if forensics turned up empty-handed, none of these 'butcherings' ever provided any solid evidence. Taking long strides, he approached the closet door and opened it with a gloved hand. Nothing but dust remained on the shelf above the hanging clothes and nothing below but pairs of shoes. It seemed the closet was the only thing left untouched, as the room was almost entirely cleared of belongings. Perhaps she had just been that orderly, but Daniels doubted it very much. Swiftly, he strode over to the desk and began searching the drawers. Each turned out empty, the only thing outstanding about them being the scrape and cut marks on their surfaces. Sighing heavily in frustration, Daniels closed the drawers and scanned the room for anything else that could be worth noting. Something stood out to him on the wall aside from the scorch marks and peeling paint. It was a puncture mark, made by something with three evenly-spaced edges. It only took one look at the burned corpse to confirm the same knife in the victim's back wasn't what made the hole.

Daniels removed a pen and small notebook from his breast pocket and began jotting down minor details of his findings so far. The room felt still and was oddly quiet, save for the sounds of the pen scrawling on the page. He paused and leaned over the corpse, taking a closer look at the knife. It was a standard KA-BAR combat knife with a notch in the handle of the blade.

Marking a previous kill? Daniels wrote next to a notation of the weapon. Upon an even closer examination, he could make out a symbol of some sort on the base of the handle. It wasn't a maker's mark like any he'd seen before, the mark being a teardrop encased by a triangle. The detective made a small sketch of the symbol on the page before closing his notebook and storing it in its rightful home. Leaving the weapon at a crime scene and cutting the place up? Seems our Butcher is getting a bit sloppy...

 

[Doc Gnosis]

Blowing off the excess graphite, Artemis admired his finished work. At the end, the fire began to look a little unnatural on the sides, but his wrist was too cramped to fix the errors. Exaggerated dribbly candles oozed a dark wax over a young woman forming streaks across her face, shoulders, and torso. Books flew in mid-air while ornate glyphs gathered around the aforementioned woman - a spiral, an upside down teardrop, and a unicursal hexagram among others; some seemed branded into her skin. In the background, a silhouette of a winged dragon could be seen albeit faintly. But what seemed to be the centerpiece is a large, spindly imp of a man on a skeletal horse.

For all his efforts, he still saw part of the drawing to be a mess; he tried to illustrate the Pike Place Market logo somewhere in the background, but he just couldn't find the space. There was also supposed to be some buildings with eyes, but his first attempt looked more like a odd triangular sigil, and simply scrapped the idea.

It was with this dissatisfaction that he flipped the page to start anew.

*.*.*

What could Violette say to a man in mourning - especially when he was overstepping her personal space?

"You're not helping anyone like this." she said grabbing Asimov's arms. Thankfully that sudden shift ended when he relinquished his grip.

"Of course, but please don't disturb the scene. Right this way." the Detective responded, seeing him finally calm down.

With one gesture, she led him into the house and at the door to the murder room. But it didn't stop her from asking questions along the way.

"How often were you in contact with her?"

 

[Texas Joker 52]

As Asimov followed, he reached up and rubbed his face before he finally answered. "About once or twice a week. I'd occasionally come over and visit if my motorcycle wasn't acting up at the time. But, if she didn't call me in the week, I usually ended up calling her if something didn't come up to stop me.", he told her just before looking up at her with grief-stricken eyes.

"She wasn't just my sister, Detective. She was the only family I really had after our mother died. I pretty much raised her myself. So it was rare for us to not talk just about every week.", he explained, sighing softly as he glanced at the door to her room.

He recognized it. What he didn't recognize, not at first, was the stench that seemed to come from in the room itself. It wasn't long before he realized that it was the smell of burnt flesh, and it made his stomach turn. But he forced his gorge back down when it threatened to rise. It wouldn't help anything if he threw up. It wouldn't help him, his sister, or the Detective.

So he kept what composure he had, despite the few tears that still silently ran down his face.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

"The hell is this..." The suited man approached the line, glancing at the enraged hobo. "This is a crime scene, sir. I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

"Agent Angler..."

Agent Angler spitted Jenkins with a look, the man stepping back. The pitch-black sunglasses made it impossible to see Angler's eyes, but you didn't need to see them to read his expression. "Jenkins, make a coffee run. Medium, one cream. No sugar." He turned his attention back to the hobo, paying Jenkins no further mind.

"I'm Special Agent Tobias Angler, FBI. Mind telling me your interest in this case, Mr...Cobble, isn't it? You were fired from Seattle PD months ago. What're you doing here?" Kerry Mac had never met Angler before in his life, he'd been fired well before the Butcher case had even started. How could Angler have known who he was just by a casual glance?"

 

[Doc Gnosis]

Violette nodded as the two made it to the doorway to the crime scene. She could see the discomfort on Asimov's face. To be honest, she'd be feeling sick as well if it was her mother in that position. She waited a while before the man could feel comfortable again to answer her questions.

"Was anything out of the ordinary with her lately? Any new friends?"

 

[CJ1145]

Kerry Mac's mouth opened and closed as he popped his jaw, examining the man in the suit. He took a few breaths, getting shallower as he decided that no, he did not like this newcomer. "My sister." was the first thing he growled,

"The Butcher took my fucking sister, my niece and nephew. You government lapdog FUCKS wouldn't even let me see them." He was shaking now, clenching and releasing his right hand. "And I'm getting SICK of you suits telling people 'We're doing all we can' because you're not! You can't catch one man with a whole agency at your back. So I've been looking myself."

Kerry Mac raised his right hand, and with an index finger shakily pointed it at the agent. "If you're gonna flounder about like the useless tools you are, then at least let in somebody who actually feels like CATCHING this sick sonuva *****!"

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

"And I'm sure you've done a great job catching him all by yourself, Mr. Cobble. This is a crime scene and I'm not going to have it contaminated by a drunken, mentally unstable bum. You want to pursue the Butcher on your own, be my guest, but you won't interfere in our investigation. If there's nothing else, Mr. Cobble, please get behind the line." Angler's voice remained even, albeit an undercurrent of contempt crept into it as he examined Kerry Mac more closely.

 

[CJ1145]

"Oh, don't you DARE." rumbled the bum's voice, jamming a stubby finger up just a few inches from Angler's face. "You think I can't see past those? Think you're hiding something special, Mr. Suit? You, you're not special. Nobody's special, except my sister. My sister, and the girl in that building."

He used the finger to point up into the dorms, and looked questioningly at Angler. "You think you're so on top of shit, then? Do you even fucking know why he's killing them? Do you even know what the HELL my sister had to do with that... that kid?!"

He took a step forward, now a little too close for comfort. The smell of a man who drowned his sorrows regularly, and rarely had a brush to clean with afterwards wafted into Angler's nostrils. "Answer me!"

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

"Actually, I know for a fact you can't see past them. You're going to want to step back, sir. Right now. I understand the circumstances of this case far better than you...or at least, I'm assuming I do. Now, do you want to leave, or shall I take you into questioning? Because you're rapidly climbing the ladder to become my prime suspect." His voice remained even, although the muscles under his coat were visibly tensing, ready to grab or strike Kerry Mac.

 

[CJ1145]

The utter, despairing shock on Kerry Mac's face was evident as Angler called him a potential suspect. He tried to speak, but for the first few tries all he got out were confused--and increasingly angry--squeaks and exhalations. His hands, now balled tight, were quite distracting with how much they were shaking as the bum began to grind his teeth.

"Y-you... you dare... I... grrr..." He began to visibly snarl as he suddenly shifted his left leg out for a more balanced fighting stance. "She was my sister, you son of a *****!"

With the last word emphasized, Kerry Mac threw a violent left hook, not particularly caring for strategy. All he knew was, he wanted this bastard to hurt.

 

[Texas Joker 52]

It was a few moments before Asimov realized just what he was looking at. The room was a mess. The bed was charred almost beyond recognition, with something smoking on top of it with what looked like a knife jammed into it. And then he realized, it was Veronica. What little composure he had when he was coming up vanished as his eyes widened and another raw wave of grief hit him.

"VERONICA!!", he yelled out, rushing forward and pushing past a man he didn't recognize.

At that point, he didn't care about anyone else. He knelt beside the bed and stared at his sisters remains, his body trembling as he thought about the pain she must have endured. Her hands and feet cut off, knife shoved into her back, burned alive. She had seemed so untouchable to danger. She avoided it whenever she could, and if she couldn't, she got herself out, or... Or he got her out of trouble himself.

And he hadn't been there this time. He hadn't been there, and she'd been killed.

"Oh, god... I'm so sorry Veronica... I wasn't here. I wasn't here to take care of you baby. I'm so, so sorry... It's all my fault.", he murmured, a fresh bout of tears leaking from his eyes, just before he broke down into violent weeping.

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

Angler didn't even move as the hook came until the last second, when he clenched his jaw and shifted slightly, a blow that was intended to strike the side of his face instead striking along his jaw. Without any protection for his hands, the force of the impact tore the flesh of his fingers, sending shocks of incredible pain up Kerry Mac's arm.

Then a boot came up and smashed into his gut, dropping him to the ground.

"Officer Granger, put this man in handcuffs."

Granger withdrew his cuffs and approached, ready to clap them onto Mac.

 

[Doc Gnosis]

"Hey! You're not supposed to to mess with the crime scene." In a second, violette moved to grab Asimov and move him away from the crime scene. Internally she was sympathetic to the man's feelings, but protocol came first. Besides if he messes up the crime scene, how else are they going to catch the guy?

"I know this is tough, but please focus. I still have questions."

 

[CJ1145]

Kerry was sprawled out on the ground as Granger approached, taking spastic breaths mixed in with pained gurgles. He was still conscious, but in too much pain to move as the police officer took his hands and bound them together with the cuffs. As this was happening, the man laying face-down on the ground spat out a bit of phlegm, and did his best to look up at Angler.

"S-s...suit... If this was just *koff* normal freak with a knife... you wouldn't be here. Am I right?"

 

[PrinceOfShapeir]

"You're on the right track." Granger hauled Kerry Mac up and lead him towards one of the squad cars. Angler turned around, shaking his head and rubbing his jaw. "I don't get paid enough for this shit."